To the Band of Brothers: March 8, 2022

You may not be aware we are launching a new initiative at Belen this year. We created the Belen Jesuit Hall of Fame to recognize those individuals who in one way or another have given so much to make our school such an extraordinary place. We have had the Belen Sports Hall of Fame for a while, but this hall of fame is broader and gets to the essence of who we are as a school. 

There are twenty individuals who will be inducted into the inaugural class. All of them are key players in Belen’s history. Let me tell you about one in particular. 

 

Like it was yesterday, I remember my last day as a Belen student. One of my classmates came up with the idea of gathering at the Burger King on 8th street and 125th avenue and driving in a caravan to the school, honking our horns, sticking our heads out the window, and screaming. Sure enough, I showed up in my red 1972 Volkswagen Bug and proudly loaded it up with several classmates joining the parade. The whole thing was a lot of fun until we drove through the gate of the school and found Fr. José María Izquierdo, S.J., the Dean of Men, standing there. It was then I knew the fun was over.

How to describe Fr. Izquierdo, a.k.a. Fr. Lefty? The reason I ponder the question is because he was somewhat of an anomaly. On the one hand, he was terrifying. One look without saying a single word would paralyze you like a deer in headlights. His look robbed you of the ability to move your legs. There was no escape. His English was terrible so he spoke in grunts, adding to the scary effect. 

As the head of discipline, he roamed the hallways and byways of the school without making a sound. First, he would be over there, then over here. He was so good at stealth discipline, we nicknamed him “the shadow” because he would appear out of nowhere and snag you if you misbehaved.

For the record, I am reluctantly telling the following story to prove my point:

I was a freshman and as the new kid on the block, I obviously felt the need to make a mark early so my classmates would accept me. I went for the jugular. I made my way into the senior section with a newspaper looking for the right classroom to strike. I heard a ruckus in one of the math classes. Before making my move, I scouted the area. I looked left… nothing. Looked right… nothing. Looked behind me… nothing. In the clear, I opened the door, screamed out I was the paperboy and proceeded to hurl it and strike the teacher right on the head. The 27 seniors in the room began to cheer then went deathly silent. It was the silence that signaled something was wrong. I turned around and there was “the shadow” standing right behind me.

I don’t remember exactly what happened next. I know there were many tears (mine of course), threats and grunts (those belonged to Fr. Izquierdo), and possibly a belt (definitely my father’s). For three days I was a prisoner in my own home. Unable to use the phone, leave my room, play Atari, or scratch my nose, I was able to eat only because my mother slipped breadcrumbs under the door.

I will never forget that experience. Yet, as challenging as it was, I loved and admired Fr. Lefty greatly. Without saying a word or teaching a class, he molded us into men of character and integrity. He was incredibly fair, incredibly consistent, and there was never a single doubt in our minds that he cared for us. This was so much the case, that in 1984, several Belen alumni who studied at Georgetown University convinced the university to bestow on him an honorary doctoral degree in education.

Fr. Izquierdo truly had a significant impact on every student who studied here during his tenure. His impact on my life really helped motivate my desire to become a Jesuit. For that reason, I am elated he was chosen to the inaugural class of the Hall of Fame.

Auspice Maria,